


maybe kind of bitter in spite of the sunshine

by grit



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, sakura is a casual ass kicking valued combat (!) medic and they love her for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 13:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18522622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grit/pseuds/grit
Summary: “Scary,” his boss, the ANBU commander Whale, remarks. “A few months of training and she can give Hound a run for his money.”





	maybe kind of bitter in spite of the sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> so I found this on my laptop, cleaned it up a bit and here we are, here you go. (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑
> 
> oh and I got the title from [here.](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42602/eternity-blues)

Recruit Number Eight descends on her sparring partners with her fist cocked back, chakra coating her knuckles, enforcing her strength. They dodge – and she redirects the punch towards the ground, sending chipped pieces of boulder flying, the earth rippling around her.

 

She doesn't falter, doesn't fold away under the volley of kicks and jabs and grappling hooks hurled at her. Her strength lies in her augmented muscles – but one hit even without her chakra in just the right spot is enough to set your world spinning. Tapped as a paper ninja in the Academy, she twisted around those expectations and thrived, sharp-minded enough to know that her speed must carry her like wings.

 

Now, Number Eight spreads her hands and releases the weights she has been supplied with by Konoha's resident Taijutsu expert. They drop craters into the ground and the newbies hesitate just a moment too long before remembering themselves. But she has already blurred forward, just a hint too fast for the human eye to register, a shape you know better than to cross.

 

One breath later the other three recruits lie panting heavily in the dirt, not even close to a match for Number Eight, even in a free-for-all.

 

Number Eight aced all of their written assignments. If he didn't know better, Sparrow would think there was a Nara lurking under that blank mask.

 

“Scary,” his boss, the ANBU commander Whale, remarks. “A few months of training and she can give Hound a run for his money.”

 

“She already did. Why, you ask? Because he never bothered with her until she'd already outgrown his silly notions by far.”

 

Whale clicks his tongue in disapproval, and Sparrow knows they are, as ever so often, of the same opinion. What a waste.

 

* * *

 

Fish leads the recruits deep into headquarters, a maze of floors and hidden passageways that is meant to be intimidating and off-putting. The candidates have been thoroughly screened, but they won't know their way around for a few more months. Some parts of the building even Fish hasn't seen yet, and she's been ANBU for four years now, outliving most, if not all of her peers. She suspects Lion is still alive, but then again, she never told her her real name, so it's not like she can check.

 

It's a dangerous job, and missions only get harder and riskier. They are the village's elite. The assassins, the infiltrators, the hunters. The unseen and the dependable.

 

Death rates are high. If you want to survive you have to be damn good.

 

She opens a door and leads the three people who made it into a spare room that's used for all sorts of semi-official – nothing ever really is official in ANBU – meetings.

 

There are already three masks laid ready at the desk, and Fish twitches an imperceptible greeting to the hidden ANBU who selected them. It's her captain Sparrow and she gets the feeling he's laughing at her. Then she turns around to face her charges. 

 

“These past four weeks you've just been numbers. You will put them down and accept your new names. Welcome to ANBU.” Her lips curl into a sardonic smile, but it's not like anyone can see below her mask. “Try not to die.”

 

The recruits visibly tense, and Fish reaches for the intricately crafted masks. And, as always, they look menacing regardless of which animal they represent.

 

“Number one,” she says, and a long-limbed person with copper hair steps forward to receive their mask. It's a wasp.

 

“Number six,” she reads neutrally, and an alert man almost snatches the mask out of her hand before she can get a good look at it.

 

And, finally, “Number eight.” Haruno Sakura, the pink-haired prodigy is bound to be recognized anywhere on sight, and Fish almost barks out a laugh at the sheep mask she's being handed. It couldn't be further from the truth, but then again, that's rather the point.

 

She'll have to nudge Sheep in the direction of black hair dye at some point.

 

“Wasp, Salamander, Sheep. You will be escorted to the barracks by your new respective captains, where you will change into full gear and meet your team later. They will teach you all you have to know.”

 

* * *

 

Owl almost doubles back upon seeing who Sheep is, and if that's not a laughable mask. They'd really like to see just who came up with it, because it's damn hilarious. They're getting Haruno fucking Sakura in a sheep's pelt, and oh, the team will just love this. 

 

Not only are medics goddamn rare to come by, they cover all of their asses and bring their teammates back alive. Owl's only been on a team with a medic once, and it wasn't a combat medic, but still an absolute fucking luxury.

 

And Haruno? She's fucking terrifying in more ways than one, and they can't wait to see how they can help her grow. With a Genin team like hers she probably doesn't know subtlety if it hits her in the face, but if she hadn't been thought capable of adapting and _rocking_ ANBU without any recognition for her skills whatsoever, then she wouldn't have been recruited, let alone assigned to an assassination squad.

 

She pads after them like an obedient little lamb, and it's comical. They turn their back as a sign of trust, not as an insult. Oh, the sheep could crush them under her boot if she wanted to, a raw ferocity to her that's hard to counter, even harder if you specialise in silent assassination. 

 

Sheep is now part of their team though, and Owl's just glad she hasn't been taught any of Boar's instant-death techniques yet. Those make even Owl shudder, and they had their first cold-blooded kill at thirteen.

 

* * *

 

Sheep follows her new captain Owl with mixed feelings. ANBU is a big step up from trailing after the remnants of Team Seven. She'd been at a standstill until she'd gathered her courage and stopped hoping Kakashi-sensei would remember her. She'd marched straight to the Hokage, the only strong kunoichi she knew anything about, demanding to be taught something, anything.

 

By some miracle, Tsunade had looked at her and seen more than a weak little girl who's mistaken a door somewhere and stumbled into her office.

 

Then she received a summons.

 

But Tsunade-shishou hadn't made the offer, didn't even recommend her. It came from the organization itself, and it's a great honour that the no-name civilian-born Sakura was approached in the first place.

 

She accepted readily, not expecting anything out of it, but she felt like she needed a break from the hospital, and this seemed like a good way to do something else for a while.

 

Two years ago she was barely more useful than a  
civilian. Then she got her hands bloody with a chip the size of a mountain on her back, trying to save patient after patient sent into her white room. Some of them would jerk awake again and others were laid to rest quickly and quietly.

 

Perspective shifts a lot to your mind.

 

Now she's fifteen, ANBU Sheep with shocking pink hair and a tattoo on her arm, and she wonders if she's going to be sent after Sasuke to kill him. She's not sure if she'd still mind. 

 

Owl drops into a clearing and Sheep follows, teeth bared like fangs.

 

They'd see.

 

Meek Sakura, forgotten Sakura. She'd twist her spite like a kunai to the guts and she'd make it her own.


End file.
